


asking for the initial thing

by achilleees_tua



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Adult Number Five | The Boy, Aged-Up Character(s), Established Relationship, Fights, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achilleees_tua/pseuds/achilleees_tua
Summary: “Whatever,” Diego said. “There are better ways to deal with your feelings, Castaway.”“Yes, I should probably go mutilate a petty criminal, that will make everything in my life better,” Five said, and warped out of the room.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Diego Hargreeves
Comments: 34
Kudos: 271





	asking for the initial thing

**Author's Note:**

> so there was this line in [one of electra's fics](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20210965) (if you haven't read [them all](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Electra_XT/pseuds/Electra_XT), you should, i could not recommend them highly enough) where five is like 'if you do that silent treatment thing again i'm going to lose my compunctions about disappearing mid-conversation.'
> 
> and that got me thinking about how five probably has no qualms about doing that, but from diego's side of things that would blow.
> 
> thus: this fic, which is spiritually a Five Times fic even if it isn’t formatted that way.
> 
> as usual, five's body is aged up - think 21, 22.

Diego always said he was going to be home for dinner. After so many plates of pasta gone cold, one would think Five would have learned better.

He heard Diego’s approach all the way from the stairs. For someone who could affect the light feet of a cat burglar when he was focusing on it, Diego sounded like a particularly furious elephant when he wasn’t.

Five didn’t look up from his book when the door opened.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Diego said, already peeling off his knife harness as he came in. “I tried.”

“Whatever,” Five said, flipping a page.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” Diego crooned, coming up to the sofa and wrapping his arms around Five from behind. He laid a stubbled kiss on the side of Five’s neck. “You know I’d never want to upset my princess.”

Five shrugged him off. “Keep condescending to me, see how that goes for you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Diego said, going to the fridge. He opened the door, then he went quiet.

Despite himself, Five looked up, cued by Diego’s uncharacteristic stillness. Diego had the captivating beauty of a live flame, never stilling, and Five couldn’t help noticing any time all of that restless energy settled.

Diego was facing away, his head downturned. When he finally turned, he was holding the covered plate of leftovers from the dinner he’d missed. “Thanks,” he said, voice quieter.

“It’s just stir-fry,” Five said, looking back at his book, a little uncomfortable at the level of undeserved sentiment.

The microwave door shut and there were a few beeps, then the familiar whirr as it started. Diego’s footsteps drew closer.

This time, Five allowed the embrace and the kiss. “I know,” Diego said, resting his cheek on Five’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Five said, smiling a little.

“I’ll try harder next time,” Diego said.

“You always say that.”

Diego sighed, dropping a kiss on the top of Five’s head as he drew away. “It drove Eudora batshit too. I promise I can be better, I just need to fix the habit.”

“Mm,” Five said, always frosty at the reminder of Diego’s first and truest love.

“Christ, you’re too fucking cute,” Diego said, audibly smiling.

“Fuck off,” Five said. All the warmth he felt over Diego’s gratitude had vanished.

“It’s not condescension, it’s statement of fact,” Diego said. “Someday you’re just gonna have to accept that, princess.”

“What’s that sound?” Five deadpanned. “Do you hear it? Sounds to me like thin ice cracking under your skates.”

Diego chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, point taken.” He took the plate out of the microwave. “I guess now would be a bad time to tell you that you’re wearing her shirt.”

Five looked down at himself. It _had_ seemed a little small to be Diego’s.

“Don’t worry, looks better on you,” Diego said, tossing a chunk of carrot high up in the air and catching it in his mouth, barely missing the ceiling.

“Christ,” Five said, pulling the shirt off.

“Aw, baby, don’t,” Diego said. “I was gonna fuck you tonight wearing it, rewrite the memory of the time she—”

Five warped back to the Academy, not quite fast enough to escape the sound of Diego’s laughter.

When he crawled into bed later that night, Diego stirred, smile no less wicked for the drowsy slant of his eyes. “What, not giving me the cold shoulder anymore?”

“Don’t be a shithead,” Five said, tucking against Diego’s bulk. Diego’s body was an addiction unto itself, but his warmth was irresistible.

“We both know that’s impossible,” Diego said, letting Five settle against him. “Christ, you’re a little icicle. You sure you don’t want me to sleep on the couch? I volunteer — you know what, I _insist_.”

“Shut up,” Five said. He tilted his face up. “Well?”

Diego smiled. “G’night, sweetheart,” he said, kissing Five softly.

“Night,” Five said, closing his eyes.

“I still haven’t gotten used to it,” Klaus announced at the next family meal.

“Don’t fall for it,” Luther advised Five and Diego. “He’s just trying to bait you into talking about your sex life in unnecessary detail, it’s his favorite hobby.”

“Oh, please,” Klaus said. “Big man’s just jealous that his white-bread relationship is old news compared to your front-page above-the-fold cover story.”

“We weren’t going to,” Five told Luther, ignoring Klaus.

“What is there to get used to?” Diego said. “We’ve been together long enough, get over it.”

“How long is long enough?” Klaus asked. He leaned forward. “Ooh, which one of you is counting the weeks and which one of you has already lost track? As if I don’t know, I bet Diego’s already planning your five week anniversary dinner.”

“Five week anniversary?” Five said, even as Diego said, “We’re past five weeks.”

“I knew it,” Klaus said, pleased. “Diego pretends to be an Aries, but he’s such a Cancer deep down.”

“Aren’t we all Libras?” Diego said.

“Please, I’m a Pisces at best,” Klaus said.

Luther rubbed his temples. “He does it just to bother me,” he gritted out. “Please ignore him.”

“So how _is_ living together going for you two?” Vanya asked, smiling a little.

“Christ, I remember making a mental over-under on how long you two would last before Luther punched through a wall,” Diego said, grinning. “ _He’s not going to drive me crazy, Diego, the Academy’s big enough for both of us.”_

“I thought Five would be living here too,” Luther said.

“I do live here,” Five said, peeling an orange.

“Yeah, but you don’t really,” Luther said.

Five shrugged. “All my shit is here.”

“You don’t have any shit,” Luther said. “The phrase _the clothes off your back_ was literally made for you.”

“Ooh, you used the word literally wrong, you’re going to make Five break out in hives,” Klaus stage-whispered.

Five rolled his eyes, nibbling on an orange segment.

“That isn’t even something he cares about,” Diego said. 

“Really? Seems like the sort of pedantic shit that would drive Li’l Man up the wall,” Klaus said. “Does he hate when people say _for all intensive purposes_? I could care less? Begging the question?”

“Granted, that one does bother me,” Five admits.

“How do people use that wrong?” Diego said. “Just means like, something that raises a question, right?”

Five grimaced.

“It means a conclusion that’s presumed in the premise,” Vanya said. 

“What?” Diego said. “Gimme an example.”

“Smoking cigarettes kills you because cigarettes are deadly,” Klaus said.

“Cigarettes _are_ deadly,” Diego said.

“Ehh, that’s begging the question,” Klaus said.

“No, that’s fact,” Diego said.

“Killing is wrong, so the death penalty is inherently immoral,” Vanya said.

“That’s up for debate,” Diego said.

“No, that’s begging the question,” Klaus said, smirking. “You getting it?”

“Sure,” Diego said. “It’s pseudo-intellectual bullshit. I get it fine.” He scowled, knee jiggling hard enough to rattle the cutlery.

“I’m done whenever you want to go,” Five murmured, touching his leg under the table.

Diego jerked away, jaw clenched. “Whatever,” he said.

Five tried not to feel hurt. He knew that Diego hated feeling like the stupid one of the group, much the same way Five hated being condescended to — hated feeling slow, and hated especially when he felt like the others noticed it too. 

Five also knew that he had neither brought this up nor contributed to the discussion himself, so it felt supremely unfair to be punished for it.

“I’ll be in my room, then,” he said. “Come get me when you’re ready to leave.” He warped out.

“You can’t always duck out of helping with the dishes!” Klaus called from downstairs.

Chalk dust perfumed the air and smudged Five’s shirt in the shape of his fingers by the time Diego came upstairs. Five felt his eyes watching from the doorway for a few minutes before Diego spoke.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll buy some of that goddamn chalkboard paint for my place. But you owe me a blowjob for it, you know how expensive that shit is?”

“Just one blowjob?” Five said, finishing the last of his equations.

“That was the opening negotiation,” Diego said quickly. “Not the final offer.”

“So I’m starting my counter-offer with less than a blowjob and we’re finding a point of compromise in the middle?” Five asked.

“Can I start this conversation over?” Diego said. “I feel like I misspoke.”

Five smiled. “Buy the paint,” he said. 

“Sure thing, babe,” Diego said, wrapping his arms around Five and dragging him back against his chest. 

Entering the boiler room, Five found Diego flipping through a magazine, legs propped up on the table with his chair tilted back. He’d always assumed Diego struck poses like that in a concerted attempt to seem effortlessly cool, so it was a little irritating to realize he just _was_ effortlessly cool on his own. He looked like he should be in a magazine ad selling designer watches.

“Hey,” Five said. “Didn’t expect you to be home.”

“I have to be here to let in the plumber,” Diego said. To Five’s questioning look, he added, “Sink’s broken.”

“Broken how?” Five said.

“I don’t know, the — thing underneath started leaking and dumped water all over the floor,” Diego said.

“It just started?” Five said. “On its own?”

“I might have been shaking the sink telling it to fucking drain,” Diego said. “Or it might have just started. Can’t remember.”

“Of course,” Five said. He dropped to his knees, looking under the sink, then he laughed.

“What?” The feet of Diego’s chair thumped as they hit the floor.

“Whoever did your sink is a hack,” Five said. “It’s put together upside-down, and at first glance, I’m pretty sure it’s hot-glued in place.”

“It came like that,” Diego said defensively, as if Five had accused him of it.

“Do you have a flashlight?” Five rolled up his sleeves and reached for the water valves, testing them to make sure they were off. “You knew how to turn off the water, I’m impressed.”

“In the interest of keeping our relationship honest, Al did that,” Diego admitted. “And don’t go acting all macho and studly here, like you know any more about DIY than I do.”

Five shot him a look.

“What?”

“Do you have a flashlight?” Five said again.

“Yeah,” Diego said, getting up and walking away, and a second later a flashlight landed in Five’s palm from across the room. “Do you seriously know how to fix the sink?”

“Not much I can do with this shit, you need a whole new sink drain kit,” Five said. “The flexible ones are garbage, it was going to break sooner or later anyway. You need PVC if you want it to last. But if you got me a kit, then yes, I could fix the sink.” He smirked. “You turned on yet?”

“I’m not _that_ easy,” Diego said.

“I think you are,” Five said. “Just called it macho and studly. Either one’s a giveaway, but both together — I’m surprised you don’t have one of those calendars with sexy mechanics and strategically placed monkey wrenches.”

“That’s not—” Diego said.

Five looked at Diego. Whenever Diego cut himself off like that, Five knew he’d struck a nerve.

“Where was I supposed to learn this crap?” Diego said, expression tight. “You’re the one who hates being condescended to, cut the shit.”

Five blinked the flashlight on and off, looking down at his hands.

Diego, he knew, hated feeling like the slow one.

Five knew the sensitivity of the nerve he’d struck, like tonguing at a sore tooth and having it flare up, a sensation that wasn’t exactly pain but was even less anything else. Prioritizing combat over home maintenance — One of their inheritances from Reginald, studying Latin in a world that had moved past it, another dead language.

If Five had been in a worse mood, he might have pointed out that the only way he’d escaped the same nonfunctional upbringing was by teaching himself half a hundred skills to survive the literal apocalypse in the shells of burned-out buildings —

But Diego’s expression held his tongue. 

“It doesn’t really matter anyway,” Five said finally. “Today’s society is so specialized, there’s always someone else who makes a living doing the job better than you could. When does he get here?”

“Who?” Diego said, startled. “Oh — the plumber? Any minute.”

“Alright,” Five said. “I just came to grab my library books to return.”

Diego grabbed his hand as he walked by, stilling him.

“Yes?” Five said.

“Maybe next time you could — show me how to fix it myself,” Diego said, looking down at their joined hands. 

"Alright,” Five said, starting to smile. “Yeah.”

“If you turn that blender on,” Five mumbled from the bed, “I swear to God I will knife you.”

“Aren’t you the one who always says not to make threats you don’t mean?” Diego said, adding a handful of something green to the contents of the blender.

 _“Yes,”_ said Five meaningfully.

Diego looked back over his shoulder with a grin. “It’s 9:01.”

“Motherfucker,” Five said.

“You know the rules,” Diego said. “After nine is fair game.”

Five glared blearily at him from the bed, but didn’t say anything as Diego hit the on button and the terrible grinding started. 

Five sat up, finger-combing his hair back into place. When the infernal noise finally stopped, he said, “Can’t believe you’re even up. What time did you get to sleep last night?”

Diego poured his healthy, green, tasteless liquid pulp into a glass. “Think I got back around four.”

“The petty crime assembly line was pumping them out last night, hm?” Five said.

Diego was quiet for a moment. He cracked an egg into a bowl. Then he said, “You promised you’d stop doing that.”

Five scowled. Being wrong was one thing, knowing he was wrong was another — but being able to stop himself? An effort of gargantuan proportion. Whatever willpower it took, he didn’t have it.

“You know why I do it,” he said, just as quietly.

“I know. And I know you promised you’d stop,” Diego said again.

Five raked his fingers through his hair, ruining whatever neatening effect he’d managed to achieve. “Diego —”

“I’m not having this argument again,” Diego said. “You said you could live with it. If you can’t, fine, then tell me you can’t. But don’t keep reeling me in by telling me what I want to hear, then picking the same fights over and over. I don’t deserve that.”

Five rubbed his hand over his face, stomach twisting. “You’re right,” he said. “You don’t deserve that.” He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants.

Diego glanced back at him over his shoulder. Seeing Five dressing, his eyes went hard. “And here comes your Last Man on Earth bullshit again, on cue.”

“Excuse me?” Five said.

“Your lone survivor gimmick,” Diego said. “Bit early in the day to get hammered even for you, so what does that mean — brooding alone in the library, right?”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to fight,” Five said, voice icy. “Funny way of showing it.”

“Whatever,” Diego said. “There are better ways to deal with your feelings, Castaway.”

“Yes, I should probably go mutilate a petty criminal, that will make everything in my life better,” Five said.

The sound of Diego’s breath hitching as he warped away reverberated in his brain for hours.

Luther found him in the rooftop garden. Five had intended to go to the library, but he hated proving Diego right.

Luther sighed, coming over to where Five was carefully pruning the crape myrtles. “Are you guys even happy together?”

“What kind of fucking question is that,” Five said in a monotone.

“I’m not saying it to be an asshole,” Luther said. “You just… seem to spend a lot of your time fighting.”

“We spend a lot more of our time fucking,” Five said.

Luther winced with his whole body.

“We can be happy together and fight often,” Five said. “I don’t see them as mutually exclusive.”

“I guess,” Luther said, sounding doubtful. “Just — Is it the same fight every time? Allison says —”

“Oh, _Allison_ says? Well, I definitely take Allison’s word as the arbiter of healthy relations,” Five said.

Luther frowned. “That’s unfair.”

“I don’t apologize,” Five said, but he sighed, feeling bad. An olive branch wouldn’t be out of place, he supposed. “I worry about his nighttime vigilante hobby. He knows I worry, but he’s not going to change. There’s really nothing else to discuss.”

“And that’s what you fight about?” Luther said.

“I’ve been told I can be passive aggressive,” Five said. 

Luther’s answering snort spoke volumes.

“I think there are ultimately worse things to fight about than the fact that I care deeply about his welfare,” Five said quietly. “But it makes him feel guilty and _that_ makes him feel upset.”

“I’ve been told he can be passive aggressive,” Luther said.

“Have you?” Five said, dry as a desert. “I can’t imagine.”

Luther cracked a smile. “I guess that’s fair.”

“Neither of us stays mad for long — about this particular subject, I know he holds grudges, I’m not delusional,” Five added, seeing Luther’s open incredulity. “By the time I get back, we’ll both be over it.”

“If you’re sure,” Luther said.

“Quite,” Five said. “I’ll wager you 50 dollars he’s waiting for me with a home-cooked meal and a kiss when I get back.”

“I’m not dumb enough to take that bet,” Luther said.

Indeed, Diego greeted Five with a kiss as soon as he stepped into the boiler room. The table was already set, a pot of sesame chicken steaming between the two plates. 

“You made my favorite,” Five murmured, nestling into Diego’s arms, head tucked under his chin.

Diego pressed his lips to Five’s hair. “You are my favorite.”

Five smiled.

“Jesus, Five,” Diego said, voice rasping. 

Five licked over his cock again, laving his tongue over the full length of it, closing his lips around the head and sucking for just a moment — then pulling away, smirking when Diego arched his hips to chase his retreating mouth.

 _“Five,”_ Diego said, sounding agonized. He thumped his closed fist over Five’s shoulder. “Come _on.”_

Five looked up at him. “Don’t be petulant,” he said, laying an open-mouthed kiss just under the head of Diego’s cock.

“Don’t be a tease,” Diego retorted.

“I like teasing you,” Five murmured. He caught the base of Diego’s cock to hold it still while he nuzzled his lips over it. “Like the way you fall apart for me gradually. Seeing you turn desperate.” He smirked crookedly up at Diego. “Making you beg.”

“Fuck, I — know you do,” Diego said. He had to brace his weight back against the wall, his legs unsteady under him. “Sometimes I wish you’d just —”

“All you have to do is ask, Diego,” Five said, dipping his tongue into the slit, making Diego twitch. “Just say pretty please and I’ll give you what you want.”

Diego hesitated, reluctant even then to give in. But it wouldn’t have meant anything if he’d been the sort to buckle too easily. It wouldn’t have ignited Five’s blood, given him that heady powerful feeling, made him feel like he’d _earned_ it when Diego finally broke. 

“Nah,” Diego said finally, like he’d come to a decision. “I can, nnh, wait.” He dropped his head back against the wall.

“Your call,” Five said, shrugging and going back to nursing at Diego’s cock, taking it into his mouth and sucking gently, too light to be really satisfying. 

“Such a brat,” Diego said, smoothing back Five’s messy hair from his eyes. “God, you’re in so much trouble when it’s — fuck — my turn.”

Five grinned up at him. “In that case, better make the most of it while I have you, hm?” He looped his fingers in a ring around Diego’s balls, keeping him on the edge.

The noise Diego made was intoxicating. “Five,” he said, squirming under his hand, “just—”

“Say it and I’ll let you come,” Five said. “Just one word, Diego.” He enveloped Diego’s dick in his throat as deep as he could manage, swallowing convulsively, spit leaking from the corners of his lips, messy in a way he rarely let himself be. 

Diego whined, hips grinding forward in abortive little hitches. “Christ, your fucking _mouth_ …”

Five pulled off again.

Diego’s eyes snapped open, black in the dim light, burning with wild need. “Don’t—!”

“Poor baby,” Five said, voice pleasantly hoarse, luxuriating in the minute trembles he could feel coursing through Diego and how hard he was in Five’s hand. “If only there were something you could do to convince me, hm?”

“Not — happening,” Diego ground out, though it seemed to take all his willpower. The muscles in his jaw were clenched with the effort, face sheened with sweat. 

God, he was so fucking beautiful. 

“Alright,” Five said. “As you like it.” He lapped his tongue against the head of Diego’s dick again in teasingly light little flicks.

“Jesus, Five,” Diego said, head knocking back against the wall with a painful-sounding thud. He groaned. “Such a fucking _brat.”_

Five hummed, not disagreeing.

Klaus never eased up about it, but Five liked the boiler room. He liked the cramped intimacy of it, the way everything had to fit in its own place or it didn’t fit at all. He liked the familiar rattle of the boiler kicking on, the way the sunlight filtered through the curtains, the gritty feel of the concrete floor beneath his feet.

He did not like how god-damned hot the place became on humid summer nights.

In his dream, Five inhaled the acrid scorched air of a world devoid of life. The taste was familiar, decades of lived experience coating his mouth in a film of ash. Thankfully or not, his eyes were too accustomed to feel the sting. The flames had gone out, but the world still smoldered.

It took Five a long moment upon waking to realize he _wasn’t_ in that apocalyptic hellscape any longer. Eyes open in the darkness, he catalogued his senses. The boiler ticked across the room. The crocheted blanket Grace had made Diego was feathery soft on his skin, and Diego’s sturdy bulk pressed against his back.

“Jesus,” Five said, tugging Diego’s heavy arm from around his midsection. He peeled off his sweaty shirt, tossing it somewhere into the darkness.

Diego stirred. “Baby?” he said, voice scratchy. “What time s’it?”

Five glanced at the digital clock by Diego’s bedside. “4:30.”

“What are you doing up?” Diego asked, sitting up. “Bad dreams?”

“No. Technically yes, but no,” Five said. “I’m mostly overheating in this fucking sauna.” He climbed out of bed and went to fill a glass of water from the sink.

Lifting it to his face, he saw with muted detachment that his hand was shaking.

He could feel Diego’s eyes on him from across the room.

“Sometimes the boiler kicks on overnight,” Diego said finally. “It gets hot in here, I guess.”

“Yes,” Five said, draining half his glass in a few gulps. He sipped the rest more slowly, filling the glass again before returning to the bed.

He sat down, legs folded, looking seriously at Diego. “Hey. Are you alright?”

Diego recoiled a little. “Am _I_ —”

“Yes,” Five said. “You’re clinging more than usual. Is something wrong?”

“It’s kind of a reflex when your bed partner starts thrashing around in his sleep,” Diego said. “I’m not clinging.”

Five frowned a little, uncertain of the directionality of the cause and effect here.

“Is something wrong with _you?_ ” Diego said, voice serious. “You dreamed about it again, didn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t make more of that than it is,” Five murmured.

Diego looked at him, eyes liquid and dark.

“I’ve spent three times longer living in the apocalypse than I have out of it,” Five said. “It’s still my Tuesday morning. Maybe we could start sleeping with the window open?”

“...Sure,” Diego said after a moment. “Are you…” He hesitated. “Don’t get mad, but it feels like you’re —”

“Avoiding the point? Likewise,” Five said, taking another swallow of his water. Diego was never going to agree that Five’s nightmares were a symptom of Diego’s clinging and not the cause, and to be honest, Five wasn’t positive either. Regardless, there didn’t seem to be much point discussing it. “Would you rather I slept at the Academy?”

Diego looked away, the muscle in his jaw tightening. “Is that what you want?” he said, his voice even.

“No,” Five said immediately, not needing to think about it for a moment. “Given the choice, I want to be here. But if I’m keeping you from sleeping…”

“I’d rather be woken up by your thrashing than sleep soundly without you,” Diego said, taking Five’s hand.

“I don’t understand you at all,” Five said.

“I think you do,” Diego said.

Five smiled a little. “Maybe.”

Five shifted his position, his hip growing sore where he leaned against the counter, head bent over the novel he had open on the counter. He switched the stirring spoon to his right hand, shaking out his left hand from its cramped coil. 

“I thought it was Klaus’s turn to cook,” Diego said from the doorway.

“We switched, he had a thing I knew better than to ask about,” Five said. “You’re early.”

“Came to ask Mom to sew something up for me,” Diego said. “What are you making?”

“Risotto,” Five said.

Diego whistled. “Christ, fancy. You’re making me feel guilty about inevitably doing some kind of baked sheet pan chicken next time it’s my turn.”

“It’s not difficult, just tedious,” Five said. 

“You’ve made it before?”

Five shrugged. “It’s Delores’ favorite.”

There was a brief, familiar pause. Five could set a watch to that pause.

“I’ve always wondered,” he said coolly, “what you would do if I mentioned Delores when none of our siblings were here to trade loaded glances behind my back.”

“Five,” Diego said.

Five turned. Diego looked embarrassed without being at all contrite, which was something only he could pull off. “Yes?”

Diego crossed his arms. “Don’t — there’s no good answer to that, you’ve already made up your mind that I’m standing here laughing at you for—” 

“Laughing at me, probably not,” Five said. “Thinking I’m crazy? Almost certainly.”

Diego’s cheeks went rosy, which in normal situations was a sight Five couldn’t resist. “That’s not fair.”

“How is it not?” Five said. “I’m not asking you to pretend you understand.” He took the pot off the stove and stirred in the remaining ingredients, his motions clipped. “Just don’t lie to me about it.”

“Maybe I don’t understand,” Diego said. “But I don’t think you’re crazy.”

Five glanced back over his shoulder, shooting Diego a sardonic look.

“Oh, come on,” Diego said. “That’s just what I’m talking about, it doesn’t matter what I say right now, the conversation’s already scripted in your head. I’m fucked if I do, fucked if I don’t.”

“Alright, tell me one thing,” Five said. “In your head, are Grace and Delores the same?”

Diego recoiled.

“Is there a difference?” Five said. “An object with ascribed personhood, given voice by its creator.”

“Don’t call Mom an object,” Diego said, quiet and controlled. _“Don’t.”_

Five’s throat tightened. He’d so wanted to be wrong. “There’s your answer.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Diego said. “Delores and Mom aren’t the same thing at all, it’s a false equivalence.”

“It’s really not,” Five said. “The only difference is, I didn’t have the tools to write the script.” He looked down at the risotto, suddenly nauseated at the thought of eating it. He turned. “Can you take the chicken out of the oven in 15 minutes?”

“Wait,” Diego said. “We’re not done here.”

“I beg to differ,” Five said. He couldn’t imagine anything less appealing than fighting about whether his fixation on an artificially intelligent object was healthier than Diego’s, in the kitchen where their siblings could walk in at any time.

“Five, _wait,”_ Diego said, grabbing his hand.

Five looked up at him.

In the dim light, Diego’s eyes were dark enough to drown in. For a still moment, Five felt weightless, untethered, disconnected from his own body.

Then Diego let go. “Whatever,” he said, suddenly quiet — a candle smothered, a fire doused. “You wanna go, go. I know you like to be alone to bask in your sanctimonious mic drop exits.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Five said, and teleported.

He hated how much that stung.

He stayed that night at the Academy, still upset. Most arguments, he didn’t mind climbing back into bed with Diego afterwards. This one felt personal.

At times like these, he missed Delores more than ever. That implicit understanding, the way she knew him better than he knew himself. There was no need to hide from Delores, to retreat, to plaster on a facade. She was the flawless incarnation of his flaws, the perfect embodiment of his imperfections, his id and his superego unified. He never had to prove anything to her.

He’d really thought Diego of all people would understand.

He was smoking on the roof and watching the sky lighten in gradients of pink and grey when the unmistakable clomp of Luther’s footsteps approached.

“Phone’s for you,” he said, not sounding happy about this. “Tell Diego to wait to apologize until a more reasonable hour next time.”

Five smiled. “Just leave the phone off the hook, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Alright.” Luther lingered, though. “Did you sleep last night?”

Five looked down at his rumpled clothes. “Caught a few hours in the library.”

“Must have been a bad fight this time,” Luther said, expression open and sympathetic.

“No,” Five said, because he’d left before either of them could say anything they’d really regret. “Just… personal.”

“That’s too bad,” Luther said. “Do you want to talk—”

Five looked flatly at him.

“Right, stupid question,” Luther said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Do that,” Five said. He stubbed his cigarette out on the roof and headed downstairs, lifting the phone to his ear. “Yes?”

“I’m not going to pretend I understand,” Diego said immediately. “And I still think Delores and Grace are different.”

“Hell of a way to start an apology,” Five said. “Keep talking.”

There was a long pause. Five could picture Diego’s expression perfectly, the way he clenched his jaw when he was working up to saying something emotional. “Grace was the only person who ever loved me unconditionally,” he said finally. “She took care of me. She’s the one that gave a shit and she made me give a shit too. If Delores was that for you, then I’m an asshole for making you feel bad about that.”

Five smiled a little, leaning against the wall. “Yes, you are.”

“That’s all I’m getting from you, huh?” Diego said. “Anyone ever tell you that you suck at meeting in the middle?”

“I’m not going to make any concessions,” Five said. “Delores is to me what Grace is to you.” He knew the others didn’t see Grace the way Diego did; hell, _he_ didn’t see Grace the way Diego did. But he was never going to think less of Diego for the way he’d imprinted on her, the way he truly saw her as his mother in the way the rest of them didn’t and couldn’t. 

“Yeah, alright,” Diego said, like he understood. “So are you coming home now or what?”

“Come pick me up.”

“You’re the one who can teleport, you come,” Diego said.

“I’m worse at it when I’m tired,” Five said. “Didn’t sleep well last night without you there.”

“I’d like to go on record for calling out your shameless manipulation,” Diego said, but his smile was audible in his voice. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Bye,” Five said, and he let himself smile, alone in the hallway with no one there to see.

“I’m not saying I’ll take the job,” Five said, walking a little faster to get to the front door first. It grated when Diego held the door open for him. “I’m saying it would be idiotic not to at least listen to their offer.”

“And I can’t believe you haven’t learned from the last time a shady organization came knocking on your door asking you to sign over your soul,” Diego said. “Dude, you’re like a concussed goldfish.”

“Don’t call me dude,” Five said.

“I can’t believe that’s what bothered you about that sentence,” Allison remarked from the living room. “What are you lovebirds fighting about now?”

“Five got a mysterious job offer from probably, I dunno, the fucking Illuminati,” Diego said. “In the form of a letter slipped under the door. Hand-delivered. Smelling of lilacs.”

“None of that is true,” Five said. 

“All of that is true,” Diego said.

“I got a job offer,” Five said. “That part was true.”

“Hand-delivered to your door,” Diego said.

“Delivered here or to Diego’s place?” Allison asked, looking up from her magazine.

“My place,” Diego said.

“Klaus is right, you two are so going to get married within the year,” Allison said. “I need to get in on the pool before it’s too late.”

“Excuse me?” Five said.

“A job offer from who?” Allison said brightly. “Sorry, Five, _whom.”_

“I don’t even care about that,” Five snapped. Why did everyone think he gave a shit about archaic grammar rules?

“Oh, good. A job offer from who?” Allison repeated.

“Good question. Five, who exactly is that job offer from?” Diego said, crossing his arms.

“There’s a pool going on if Diego and I get married?” Five asked Allison.

“When, not if,” she said. “Seriously, I’m actually starting to get worried, tell me about this job offer.”

“Starting?” Diego said. “He’s being head-hunted by the fucking New World Order, and you’re _starting_ to get worried?”

“This is inane,” Five said. 

“See how avoidant he gets?” Diego said to Allison. “It’s like interrogating a goddamn greased pig.”

“Maybe if you weren’t trying to interrogate me, I’d be more forthcoming,” Five said. “Not every intelligence organization is evil by nature, I don’t see why you’re so opposed to me working for one.”

“That’s begging the question,” Diego said.

“It’s really not,” Five said.

“It really is,” Diego retorted. “You’re saying I shouldn’t be opposed to you working for one because they’re not evil by nature, but it presumes that all intelligence organizations aren’t evil by nature to reach the conclusion that I should let you work for one.”

Five hesitated.

God dammit.

 _“Let_ me?” he said, because Diego being right about that didn’t make up for Diego thinking Five had to ask his goddamn permission to go to a job interview. 

Diego winced, recognizing his misstep. “Five, come on, talk to me. Don’t do that thing where you pick other fights to avoid the actual conversation we need to have.”

“Fine,” Five said. “I won’t pick another fight. You’re fucking welcome.” 

He congratulated himself for having the willpower not to flash both middle fingers at Diego as he warped away.

He expected someone to fill his doorway shortly after, but he didn’t think it would be Allison. He heard her clear her throat from his seat on his window ledge, but he didn’t look up until he’d finished rereading the letter for the nth time.

Then he folded it and slipped it back into his inside pocket. “Yes?” he said coolly.

She sat on his neatly made bed, raising a thin cloud of dust. He distantly wondered when he’d last slept there. “Do you do that often?” 

Five wrinkled his nose. “I need to justify my choice of employment to you even less than —”

“Not that,” Allison said. “I trust that you’re smart enough not to get sucked into another fascist, apocalyptic supervillain club. I mean, do you always fight with him like that?”

“We fight often, we fuck more,” Five said, bored of this conversation. “Luther can fill you in on the finer details, I assure you we’ve had this discussion before.”

“No, Five,” Allison said, very serious. “Do you fight with him _like that?”_

Five frowned. “Like what?”

“The way you refuse to engage,” Allison said. “That’s not even fighting, it’s… I don’t know what the word is for it. It’s like…” She hesitated.

“Say it,” Five said.

“It’s like you don’t even respect him enough to fight,” Allison said.

Five’s gut dropped. “That’s not fair,” he said. “It would be unhealthy if we always did get in screaming rows, but you’re telling me it’s unhealthy that I avoid them also? You can’t have it both ways.”

“I guess,” Allison said, sighing. 

“I can’t always…” Five gestured, uncharacteristically lost for words. Putting speech to thought, that was a strength of his. Making sense of the turmoil of emotions beating at his skull from the inside? Not as much.

If he always _engaged_ with Diego — if he always let the walls open… He’d be exhausted. It would be like living with an open wound.

He’d never had someone reach so far inside him before, get their hands all the way into his guts and fiddle around. In those moments, he always wondered if that was what it felt like to be Grace.

“Yeah?” Allison said, looking at him expectantly.

Five sighed. “You really think I should fight with him _more_?”

“I think you should have seen the look on his face when you disappeared,” Allison said. “I think it would have meant something to you.”

Five looked out the window, watching a pigeon root around on the roof of the opposite building.

“Maybe,” he said.

Five braced himself when he walked to the car with Diego after a dinner that he hoped was stilted mostly in his own mind. 

He buckled himself in, waiting for the inquisition. But Diego started the car without saying anything, and they pulled out onto the road without either of them speaking.

“…Is the discussion over?” Five said, after a few minutes of silence.

“You’ve made your position clear,” Diego said. “Got nothing else to say.”

“If you’re certain,” Five said, taking in the unhappy set of Diego’s features. 

“You—” Diego started, then cut himself off.

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” Diego said. He inhaled through his nose, then said, “I don’t want to fight about it anymore.”

“But—”

“Five,” Diego said, sounding tired. “Please.”

“Alright,” Five said.

It should have felt more like a victory.

The chalkboard paint wasn’t finished drying, and its glossy veneer taunted Five all the way out of the boxing gym and back to the academy to get some work done on the well-used walls of his childhood bedroom.

Of all the things he’d missed in the apocalypse, he had to admit, this was embarrassingly high on the list.

“Allison says you’re thinking about taking another job as a hired gun with the Commission 2.0,” Klaus said from the doorway.

“Allison said that?” Five said, trying to decipher if he’d scrawled a 1 or a 7 before.

“Yep,” Klaus said, popping the p sound emphatically. “How’s your hearing, old man?”

“Fuck off,” Five said, but he was less sensitive to the age jokes than he’d been when he had the body of a preteen. “I’m surprised it wasn’t Diego. Allison seemed less concerned when the prospect was posed to her.”

“She told it mostly as an amusing anecdote,” Klaus said. “Small-talk. You know, another _our brother Five_ story for the books. ”

“I wouldn’t be a hired gun and it isn't the Commission 2.0,” Five said. “And if it _is_ the Commission 2.0, I won’t take the fucking job.”

“Did you not hear me say it was mostly just small-talk?” Klaus said. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to get all Diego-y and overprotective about it.”

Five set down his chalk and wiped his fingers on his shirt, suddenly unable to focus on his equations.

 _“Speaking_ of Diego getting all overprotective,” Klaus said brightly, as if he hadn’t been angling for this all along, “I assume that’s the fight that drove you back into the loving embrace of your home de jure.”

“We didn’t fight,” Five said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ooh, this should be good,” Klaus said, hopping onto Five’s bed and waving away the cloud of dust it emitted. “I always know it’s going to be a good question when even you, o’ tactless wonder, have to work yourself up to asking it.”

“Why didn’t you and Diego work out?” Five asked.

Klaus half-smiled.

“The way he tells it, the two of you had something, and then you just broke it off for no reason,” Five said. “He thinks you couldn’t handle him lecturing you about the drugs, but I’m not convinced.”

“First, why are you asking?” Klaus asked.

Five looked out the window.

“If you’re about to freak out and dump him because you’re getting too far in your own head about something dumb,” Klaus said.

“That’s not it,” Five murmured. “Go on?”

“We disagreed vis a vis acceptable ways of expressing our emotions,” Klaus said.

“You mean the way Diego expresses his emotions,” Five said.

Klaus nodded.

“He gets angry because he cares,” Five said. “And you…”

“It makes me feel like shit,” Klaus said frankly. “I’ve never been able to let it roll off. That’s why you two are so good together, I figure. Neither of you takes it personally.”

Five straightened his shirt cuffs, thinking of all of the fights Diego had ever picked with him, and of the way he’d recently started clinging at night.

“Right,” he said quietly. “Sympatico.”

“Exactly,” Klaus said with relish. “You’re lucky you found each other, man, who else would put up with your bullshit? And I mean that equally about both of you.”

“Yes,” Five said. “Lucky me.”

Diego walked into the boiler room and did a double-take when he found Five inside. “I hate when you do that,” he said, shaking his head.

“Do what?” Five said idly, chewing on the end of his pen.

“Just warp in here instead of coming through the damn door so I know to expect you,” Diego said, coming over and kissing Five hello. “Someday you’re gonna give me a damn heart attack.”

“Mea culpa,” Five said. “I know how much joy it gives you when your tape trick works. You’re just like Batman.”

“I’m not trying to be like Batman,” Diego said.

“I admit, it’s not a perfect analogue, but I’m having trouble thinking of a better one,” Five said, grinning up at him.

“If you weren’t so adorable in your little blanket nest, I might take more offense,” Diego said. “You’re like a little rabbit all snuggled in your burrow.”

Five wanted to argue that it wasn’t a blanket nest, but it didn’t seem like an inaccurate way of describing the arrangement of cushions and blankets he’d made for himself on the floor. “Fuck off,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “If you didn’t possess the world’s least comfortable couch, I wouldn’t have to do this.”

“Just read in bed like I do,” Diego said.

“Too drafty,” Five said.

Diego grinned. “Ah, _now_ you want my body heat, I see how it is.”

“Didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, but you’re thinking it,” Diego said, tossing him a wink.

“I like your body heat when you’re not clinging to me like a damn limpet,” Five said. “And it’s not just because of my nightmares, we both know it.”

“Eh,” Diego said, shrugging. “Think what you like. What do you want for dinner?”

“What are my options?”

“The usual,” Diego said. “‘Cept I’m out of quinoa.”

“How will I live?” Five deadpanned. 

“I know, fucking tragedy,” Diego said, going through the cabinet where he kept his canned food. “What do you think, skillet mushroom marsala?”

“That sounds—”

Five trailed off when the police scanner on Diego’s hip started spitting static. A second later, a woman’s voice came through. 

“Calling all units. A 246 at 1540 Atlantic. Back-up needed."

Five spent a moment searching his mental database. Assault with a deadly weapon, he recalled, and he waited for Diego to leave.

It came as a surprise when Diego reached down and switched off the scanner instead.

“You’re not going?” Five asked.

Diego shook his head, still digging around in the cabinet. “Cops’ job to handle it.”

“Yes, but that’s literally always been true,” Five said. “Since when has that been your life doctrine?”

“Maybe I’m trying a new thing,” Diego said.

Five watched Diego’s back, trying to read past the nonchalance in his tone to whatever lay underneath. He wasn’t sure what Diego was hiding, only that he was hiding _something_. Five had only ever been good at the surface level detection.

“Don’t make more of it than it is,” Diego said, when Five didn’t respond for too long. “I just don’t feel like it tonight.”

“Again,” Five started.

“Jesus, Five, leave it,” Diego barked.

Wanting to see Diego’s face — he had the most expressive eyes, big dark wells that plumbed the depths of his soul, and Five could use that dubiously fair advantage to figure out what was going on with him — Five got out of his seat, and Diego _flinched_. 

Five stopped dead.

 _“_ Fuck,” Diego said, and punched the cabinet. “Fuck!” His shoulders shook.

“What the hell?” Five said.

Diego spun, his eyes wide. 

“You thought I’d left,” Five realized aloud, his voice coming out slowly. 

“Five,” Diego said.

“You thought…” Five said, approaching him even slower.

 _“Five,_ ” Diego said.

Five walked all the way forward into Diego’s arms, curling both hands around his jaw and kissing him, long and deep and achingly sweet, everything neither of them had ever known how to say.

“Five,” Diego said, already edged with need, beautifully strung-out with it. “Don’t — don’t tease, not—”

“I won’t,” Five murmured, kissing him again, hand working over Diego’s cock in firm, thorough strokes. He held himself up on one arm over Diego’s body, his dick pressing against Diego’s hip, letting him feel how desperately Five needed him in return. “Not this time.”

He wouldn’t have needed to tease even if he’d wanted to; Diego’s dark eyes were already glassy, his muscles gone pliant, the way he only got when Five pushed him right to the limit of what he could stand. Five struggled to find the word for him in that moment — fragile, perhaps, or maybe delicate.

No, he thought. _Precious_ _._

“You don’t have to ask,” Five said, stripping both of them out of their clothes until their bare bodies aligned addictively. “Just let me—” He licked his palm and wrapped his hand around Diego’s cock again.

Diego jolted. “Yeah, whatever you want.” He arched up, rolling his hips in time with Five’s strokes. “Fuck, anything you want.”

“No, this time, it’s for you,” Five said. “I’m yours, let me—” He slid off the bed.

“Five—” Diego said, starting to sit up.

Five looked up at him from between his knees. “Let me,” he said softly.

Diego nodded, watching him with an open mouth and glazed eyes.

Five immediately inhaled Diego’s dick as deep as he could take it, and Diego cried out, hips hitching forward like he couldn’t help himself. Five just moved with it, ardent, adoring, relaxing his throat for Diego to use.

“Christ, baby,” Diego said, pushed up onto his elbows to watch. “You’re so good at this.”

Five blindly reached up and felt around until he found Diego’s wrist; he guided Diego’s hand to his hair. “Do it, I want you to,” he said, pulling off just enough to speak, his lips brushing the head of Diego’s cock. “Make me take it.”

Diego hesitated for a moment, then in a rush he was twisting his fingers in Five’s hair and holding him there as he thrust up, fucking Five’s throat, not holding back. “Yeah?” he panted. “Is this what you want?”

Five moaned, looking up at him, projecting _yes, yes, YES_ with his eyes alone, never wanting Diego to feel any doubt.

“You don’t like it when I leave,” Five said after, his head pillowed on Diego’s chest.

Diego stroked his fingers through Five’s hair. “Sounds wussy when you say it like that.”

“When we fight,” Five said. “You don’t like it when I…”

Diego sighed. “I know for you it’s just a way of avoiding an argument, but for me, it kind of sucks.”

“I see that,” Five said. He turned his face up, looking at Diego. “I just hope you realize that the likeliest result of this is us fighting more, not less.”

“God forbid,” Diego said.

“I’m still going to that job interview,” Five said. “And you’re still —”

“I’ve never minded the arguments,” Diego said. 

“If you say so,” Five said. He hesitated. “It’s not just that I’m avoiding an argument,” he said, voice quieter. 

“You like to be alone to lick your wounds,” Diego said, pressing his lips to the top of Five’s head.

Five nodded.

“You really hate being vulnerable that much?” Diego said.

“Not to resort to cliché, but _hi pot I’m kettle,”_ Five said.

Diego smiled a little. “That’s fair.”

No one really _liked_ being cracked open and read like an x-ray, but Five had a feeling he minded more than most. “I don’t like people knowing when they score a hit,” he said. “Call it self-preservation, call it cowardice, whatever.”

“You’re not a coward,” Diego said.

“I am about some things,” Five said, looking up at him. “You get in my head.”

“That doesn’t sound like a good thing,” Diego said, one eyebrow raised.

Five touched his face, tracing the line of his scar with one finger. “If I weren’t invested, it wouldn’t be worth it,” he said. “You never feel butterflies around me?”

Diego flipped him over, pinning him down on the bed and kissing him — his hands on Five’s wrists, his bulk covering Five’s chest, blanketing him in the comforting weight of his affection. 

“Sweetheart,” Diego said. “I feel _fireworks_ around you.”

Allison made a concerted effort to corner Five in the parlor the next time she was in town. He could tell, because she came prepared with coffee as if she thought she would need to bait him like a puppy.

He took the coffee, of course, but he also needed her to know that he was onto her tricks. “Yes?” he said.

“So I was talking to my friend Kristen the other day,” she said.

“Mm?”

“And she was telling me about how her husband has trained her to be better at fighting,” Allison said. 

“Ah,” said Five. He popped the lid off the coffee and sniffed it. “You know I prefer dark roast.”

“Why on earth would I know that?” Allison said. “Anyway, she says she used to leave every fight by storming out of the house and slamming the doors and—”

“Sounds toxic,” Five said. 

“Well, yes,” Allison said. “Exactly. So her husband told her he didn’t deserve to be treated that way, and now she’s working on fighting with him without storming out all the time because it’s… belittling and unproductive, I guess.”

Five looked at her, one eyebrow raised, waiting.

“…You already came to this emotional epiphany, huh,” Allison said.

“You really have no faith in me if you think I needed it spelled out any more obviously than you spelled it out last time,” Five said. 

“A lack of faith in your emotional aptitude? Perish the thought,” Allison deadpanned.

“Heh, you sound like Five when you talk all posh and pretentious like that,” Diego said from the doorway.

“Says the man who corrects my grammar every time I misplace a participle,” Five shot back.

“Just trying to keep you humble, little man,” Diego said, coming in and wedging himself on the sofa next to Five, closer than he strictly had to be.

“I’m not even obsessed with grammar,” Five said. “You shitheads just assumed I was and then acted like it was a given.”

“You know what that sounds like?” Diego said.

“If you say _begging the question,_ you’re sleeping on the couch,” Five gritted out.

“Or the blanket nest, as it were,” Diego said. “Since, you know, all the cushions—”

“Go suck a thousand dicks.”

“You’re so cute when you’re overreacting,” Diego said, kissing Five’s neck.

Five felt perfectly justified jabbing Diego in the side with two fingers, right where he was the most sensitive.

“Christ, ow!” Diego said.

“You deserved it,” Five said.

“Fucking menace,” Diego said, massaging his side.

Five looked at Allison. “You happier now?”

“Thrilled,” she said, beaming back.


End file.
